


Into the Hills

by britishbossy



Category: Far from the Madding Crowd (2015)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Love Confessions, Poor Life Choices, Sad, Unhappy marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21549583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britishbossy/pseuds/britishbossy
Summary: A husband returns to his wife. A man who loves more deeply than anybody else takes his leave. A woman is forced to question her feelings.Fix-it Far from the Madding Crowd.
Relationships: Bathsheba Everdene/Francis Troy (mentioned), Bathsheba Everdene/William Boldwood
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	1. we go

**Author's Note:**

> Title and chapter titels are from the song Into the Hills by Laurel.   
Give it a go! 
> 
> Used both book- and film references.

Farmer Boldwood had always prided himself to be a man of great patience and humbleness. His actions were never irrational, his thoughts carefully calculated and his personal feelings were kept under a blanket of control. Things had changed though, since he had met Bathsheba Everdene.

He tried not to dwell on his own former standarts which he had carelessly thrown out of the window when he marched along the drive of her farm, her house getting smaller behind him. His whole body was shaking with a bone deep rage which was making his blood rush in his ears, causing him not to hear her voice as she called out to him.

“Mister Boldwood, wait!“

Bathsheba kept calling his name until she reached him and stood before him, out of breath from running. He stopped but refused to look at her. The young woman found her knees shaking in distress. The evening had been an absolute disaster! Boldwood had been a regular visitor at her farm these days, checking on her. Over the past few weeks of this new year they had grown closer, her feelings for him slowly morfing into something she had been afraid to speak until now. But today, her long lost husband Frank Troy had returned. He had reclaimed his chair in her house and tried to send Boldwood away. The gentleman had refused to do so, unless the lady of the house wanted him to and Frank had started insulting him in the most abominable fashion. Bathsheba had stood between them, powerless to do anything. Boldwood had taken the tirade with the bravery of a knight, his teeth gritted and his eyes burning as he bid them goodnight. Then he had left.

After Frank, ever so keen on keeping traditions had grapped a bottle of liquor and put his feet up on the table Bathsheba had decided to do something about it. She would not endure the same state of weakness in the eyes of men again. So, she had run after Boldwood, calling out to him to wait.

He did even though she could see the unbearable pain and anger in his eyes. When the man spoke, his voice was trembling.

“He's supposed to be dead. How dare he return now?“

She stepped closer to him, partly to make him look at her, partly because of the cold. The light of the lantern weakly illuminated his features, twisted in anger and dispair. A part of her wished to reach out and touch him but his pain was so intense she could feel its waves reach for her. It scared her and made her feel even more guilty.

“Oh, that frevelish devil! Destroyer of my hopes!“

“Mister Boldwood-“

He let out a dry laugh but it sounded as if he were wounded.

“It is what I deserve, is it not? I have been a fool for reaching out for something which was never mine to have!“

“William!“

Just as she said his name she reached for him, her hands finding the sharp edges of his face. It made him stop. Suddenly, the world had stilled. The wind was quiet, the trees were merely whispering. She pushed into him, their breaths mingling. Their kiss was soft and light. Bathsheba barely registered the sound of the lantern tumbling to the ground. Boldwood's arms encircled her body, drawing her closer to his warmth. She thought she might cry. His embrace made her feel safe as never before. He had said that he would be willing to protect her for the rest of her days, and even though Bathsheba thought of herself as far from a helpless woman she couldn't help but think it might be far from bad to at least consider his offer. As for Boldwood, he felt like he was in a dream, kissing her back as if she was all the air he would ever need to survive. It could not be real, surely he was dreaming. He held her tighter, not enough to hurt her of course, but in an attempt out of sheer desperation to convince himself that this moment was not simply a product of his imagination. When they seperated to draw breath, it was so dark they could barely see one another. Bathsheba blinked and spoke her truth into the darkness of the night.

“I love you“

She heard him gasp softly against her.

“And I'm sorry for not telling you this earlier but I couldn't. I wasn't ready. But I am now, I am. To be honest with you, when you stood before me, offering me your heart I was afraid. I was afraid that it would be a burden for me but I was wrong. It would be an honour for me to be loved so completely by someone so noble, so strong and so kind as you.“

He was quiet for a while and she felt her stomach twist in fear that she was too late. Perhaps he was done waiting for her and would finally move on. God knew, any other man would have by now, such as Gabriel Oak had. The breeze cut into her skin and as if he had sensed it, Boldwood reached up to cup her cheek with his warm hand, shielding her from the cold.

“Bathsheba, darling“ He murmured.

She covered his hand with hers, giving it a squeeze. She had to convince him how serious she was being. She had given him more than reason to doubt her in the past after all. She had caused him more pain than she could have ever imagined, too young and too foolish to understand the full impact for her doings. But she would use her remaining days to soothe and heal whatever wound she had inflicted upon him if he let her. His silence was dreadful for her but she knew she had no right to object. He was probably even more scared than she was at the moment.

“You...you must go back to your husband now.“ His voice was shaking but she was sure it was not because of the cold. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes at his words. He was sending her away because he was every bit of the gentleman she had met a few years ago. William Boldwood would not continue to pursue her when she was married to someone else. And it broke her heart. He slowly let go of her but she caught his hands again, trying to hold him back. She knew it was wrong to so but she couldn't help herself. She was torn between letting him go and finally setting his aching heart free and hold him to her to be the woman she should have been to him years ago, gentle and caring and loving.

Boldwood felt as though he was to stomp out the last flame of a fire keeping him warm during a stormy night in the open. She was not free, he had been a fool to give into that false hope caused by rumors that Troy had died. He did his best not to ponder on what kind of man this mad eout of him, what dark and evil spot of his soul had been leading him down this path but more so, he would do the right thing and let her go back to her very alive husband. And now she said she loved him. Now, that their feelings were meeting in the middle, life was tearing them apart again. He swallowed to keep himself from letting out a sob at the immense pain that ripped through his chest. He felt barely able to keep standing upright with her holding onto his hands as if to hold him back from leaving. His heart felt caught in an odd place between a comforting warmth and a pain so profound it would surely kill him within days. But he was a man of honour and pride. So, he pulled away for good, picked up the broken lantern to take it home and perhaps have it repaired or keep it broken forever in the cellar where no light would ever touch it again.

“I bid you goodnight, Mrs. Troy“.

With that, he turned and disappeared into the darkness, taking every step with more force than before to keep himself from turning and running back to her.


	2. Life's to waste

Boldwood would not ride out. He had spent the passing weeks inside his salon, in his armchair, a glass of brandy always near him. Even though he was aware that it would not cure him from his pain he decided to tend to it for a while longer, wondering why he was still alive. He'd dragged himself away from her and back to his empty, too enormous house with nothing but loneliness to keep him company. Boldwood had been lonely before and he had grown used to it. His attitude had been that of a controlled and calm man, not known for displays of emotions of any kind. At the same time he had noticed that he had become cold on the inside, his soul glazed over by the ice of isolation. Bathsheba had been the fist woman in years to wake up something in him which he had believed dead. She had ignited a fire in his heart, a fire that had burned him and left his insides in ashes. Boldwood was asking himself if the pain had been worth it. He would have been content with remaining a human iceberg, at least people had respected him that way. Nowadays, they pitied him. When he reflected on it, he did not really care for other people in the parish. But he had yet to lose the ability of self awareness.

His main concern however, remained the aching pain which seemed to take over his entire being. It kept him from sleep and from work and made him sink into the dark abyss of sadness. Boldwood knew sadness rather well but this time it seemed endless, for there was no hope left for him. The love of his life was still married and would remain so, forever out of his reach, yet so close by. Perhaps that was also the reason he was hiding away inside his house; at least he would not have to see them together. Whenever his mind conjured up the image of her smile, his chest would tighten and Boldwood was overcome with panic and the urge to run away like one of her sheep that felt the presence of a predator. However, he could hardly run from something which was eating at him from within. He knew he was done for. He was old and alone and would remain so until his last day. So, why would he care for the opinion of other people? Why should he get up to eat or to sleep when nothing made him feel alive any more?

Day and night were bleeding into one another. Boldwood would not look at the clocks any more. He would barely register the light fading and dawning again but he could not bring himself to care. Neither did he care for the fact that he had been wearing the same clothes for days. His manservant would lay out new ones for him now and then but the farmer did not know the reason. Nobody would see him any ways.

Bathsheba however seemed to have other plans for him. When he finally found the strength to care enough to at least look at his letters, he found one carrying her writing. His heart beat had sped up instantly and he had to close his eyes for a moment to collect himself. Surely, she just wished to apologize once again or to discuss a business matter with him. When he read her lines he had to swallow, feeling his throat close up. She would come to see him. She had not bothered with a question but had rather chosen words of a mere fact. She would come to see him, today. For the first time in weeks, Boldwood looked at the clock again. She would be here, soon. In a sudden motion he stood, his hands flying up to his head. He could not possibly stand before her in this state. So, he called for his manservant, requested a bath and fresh clothes.

When Bathsheba enters the salon, William stands in front of the windows, his back to her. For a moment she thinks nothing of it but then he turns to face her and she stops abruptly. His face looks haggard, his posture is straight yet it looks like a facade. There is no strength left in him. William looks sick. Too late, she realises that she's staring. He lets his gaze drop, knowing. He does not smile. For a while they just stand there, the atmosphere in the room tense and cool. Bathsheba can barely breathe. When she finally convinces herself to take a few steps towards him, he holds up a hand and turns away slightly as if she was going to harm him.

“Don't, please.“

She halts. Her heart is burning for him, and she wants nothing more than to reach out and catch him before he collapses. But of course, he would never let it come to this in front of her. His pride runs too deep. But then again, so does his love.

He drops his hand, more in defeat than relief and finally finds the courage to look at her once more. She looks lovely, but then again, she always does. Although, she does not smile. The look in her eyes is pitiful. When he can't stand it any more, he speaks, ignoring his racing heart.

“What are you here for?“

“You.“

If he had expected anything at all, that had certainly not been it. Boldwood blinks and remembers how to draw breath after that initial shock.

“Why?“

Her eyes begin to tear up and he looks away, unable to stand it. She is not lying.

She steps closer still and he lets her, too tired to fight her. He is weak against the pure beauty and force of nature that she is. Her eyes examine his face carefully and all he can do is let it happen.

“You don't look so well.“

Boldwood lets out a brief huff but says no more. Despite his effort, his nearing end was obvious, then.

“How is your husband?“

Bathsheba lets out a sob at his question. It makes him freeze.

“Drunk on wine in the barn. As he is everyday.“

Boldwood does his best to suppress his anger at Troy for doing this to his wife. Why had he even bothered returning? It was not fair. He shook his head, he had no right to think like that.

“But I'm not here to talk about him, William.“

Her voice saying his name is like a punch right in his stomach. He takes a breath and turns away from her, back to the window. He keeps his eyes locked to the leafless trees outside, bathed in grey cold fog. So, when she steps up next to him, he feels her more than he sees her, barely out of the corner of his eye. Boldwood keeps his hands clasped behind his back, afraid of what he might do otherwise.

“I miss you.“ She breathes softly next to him and he closes his eyes against the torment. Why is she doing this to him again and again?

“I felt safe, knowing you would come to see me every other day. I miss our conversations over tea. When you were there, I knew nothing could harm me. Especially, since you know more about farming then anyone else. I appreciated your knowledge. It was nice not to be alone.“

“You have Liddy.“ He cuts in, hoping to stop her from going on. It is too much to handle.

She smiles.

“Yes, I do have Liddy. But she is more of a sister than a companion. She likes to be on the same page with me. Therefore, we never engage in discussions, not really. With you, on the other hand...“ She hesitates and he holds his breath, desperate to shut out her voice and close his heart against her words.

“You challenge me. You make me question my choices and believes. It is rather refreshing. And you make me feel safe without me having to ask for it. You're too generous.“

“Bathsheba -“ He begins quietly.

“I know I have no right to tell you this now but it may be my last chance before -“

“Please, won't you stop?“ Boldwood grinds out, turning towards her. She freezes in response. His body is bowed inwards, as if he is hiding an injury from her. And he is, as she only realises now. She's hurting him, again. Her own heart feels on the verge of collapsing and she searches his red rimmed eyes.

“I love you.“ She says softly.

William's brows furrow and his lips curl into a pained smile. He lets out several huffs and looks away, shaking his head.

“I do. I love -“

“Don't. Please don't.“ His voice is shaky and cold. She steps closer, feeling the urge to take him into her arms.

“Why not, William?“

His eyes find hers when she says his name. His expression softens briefly before he straightens his posture once more. He is fighting her and himself in the process. It must be painful. She blames herself for not seeing it sooner. For not realising sooner what she meant to him, what he could mean to her.

“You are married. Your husband -“ He swallows and can't help but clench his fists.

“Doesn't love me. He never has. And I don't think I have ever loved him, either.“

She reaches out for him, he takes half a step backwards but does not resist when she takes his hands in hers. They are unusually soft for a man of his age. But it fits him.

A part of him is ready to run away. Her behaviour confuses him to no end. Why would she change her mind now? She had kissed him a few weeks before and he has thought about it ever since. It was everything he ever wanted, more than he would have dared to ask for. But it could not be. As much as he despises Troy, he is her lawfully wedded husband. Boldwood would not bring shame upon her by engaging with her in these circumstances. Her reputation means more than his ridiculous feelings. He realises that she is slowly moving closer, right into his space, as close as they would be for a dance. At first he feels he should push her away. Being so close to one another is dangerous and he doesn't trust himself in this situation. But only a second later he realises that he does not have the power to do so.

“William.“ She breathes and her face is taking up his whole field of vision.

He grabs her hands in response, trying to ground himself. It does not stop her. Their foreheads touch and his eyes fall closed. He can smell her perfume, feel her warmth reaching for his frozen soul, he can feel her breath dissolving on his lips. She is so close he can almost taste her. She is everything he craves.

When they meet in the middle, he doesn't care. He forgets about Troy and their reputations. His pain dissolves and his heart jumps in absolute joy. They kiss like it is the last time. She reaches for his shoulders, barely able to hold up herself on shaky legs and he feels it and brings her closer, folding his arms around her in a protective embrace. It is a dream, a dream that she could be his. If he is to die tomorrow, he is ready. He is not aware of it but he steps forward and gently presses her against the glass of the window, his hand behind her head, shielding it. Her arms come up around his neck and she lets out a sound so soft and beautiful, he feels something scorch his entire being. It is pure heat and power that makes him sigh deeply into her mouth. He pulls her even closer against him, never wanting this moment to end. He can not stop. If he could just have one more kiss, one more breath from her, one more sound.

The glass against her back is cool but she barely feels it with the space in front of her ignited. Her body feels like it is burning, her heart is drumming almost painfully inside her chest and she can not stop kissing him. William holds her tight against his form but not too strong, she can tell he is still holding himself back. A sigh escapes her as she realises once more that he would never hurt her, never would he let any harm come to her. Bathsheba feels his love so strongly it makes her head feel light and her limbs too heavy. When they part for air, his lips find her cheek, her chin and her neck, his hold not loosening. She closes her arms around his neck and pulls herself against him in a lovely hug. She lets her fingers move through his dark curly hair and breathes him in. He smells like safety, like home. She clings to him when he tries to pull back. Their cheeks press against one another and she starts begging.

“Please, don't send me away. Please, please, don't deny me, William.”

He pulls back to kiss her again and she lets him do as he pleases. She has never been kissed like this before, with so much passion, yet so tenderly. It feels like heaven.

When he pulls back, she is not herself. Her head is swimming and her body feels not like her own. William looks at her like he's seeing her for the first time and brings up a hand to cup her cheek. She kisses his wrist and he lets out a soft gasp. When Bathsheba meets his eyes she can see a fire burning in them. It is a familiar fire that she has seen in other men's eyes before, it is desire.


	3. higher, higher

He breathes in deeply, before he takes a step back, blinking, trying to put his feet back onto the ground.

“You must leave.” He states, ignoring how weak his voice sounds. Bathsheba's face shows disappointment and a sadness so sincere it breaks his heart on a new level. Before he can stop himself he steps to her and she is back in his arms and he kisses her like a starving man.

She clings to him in a manner that speaks as much of passion as it speaks of desperation. She wants this. She wants him to touch and hold her. The very thought alone is enough to make him weak in the knees. When he pulls back to breathe, she follows, chasing his lips with hers and he barely manages to repress the whine that forms in his throat.

“You must leave.” He says instead before she kisses him into silence. Boldwood gives in because it might be humanly impossible for him not to at this point and presses her back against the window, his arms bracketed around her form. His hands curl into fists against the cool glass, desperately trying to ground himself before he's going mad with lust, especially since she's letting her hands roam his shoulders and chest. It would be enough to make any man lose his composure. However, his sense has not left him completely, yet, so he breaks the kiss once more, trying to reason with her.

“Please, my dear -” She kisses him again, her fingers carding through his hair, threatening to make him faint then and there.

“Please, you must -” He pulls back with the last amount of good will he possesses.

“- leave before I forget myself.” He whispers to her, their foreheads resting against one another.

“I'm not here for you to remember yourself now, William.” She breathes back before she kisses him briefly and then he feels her hands on his collar, gently yet persistently tugging on his cravat.

He should stop her, he knows that much but he's tired. He's tired of pretending not to want her. More importantly, he's tired of always doing the sensible thing. Right now, he wants nothing more than to just give in. To lift her up in his arms, carry her to his bedroom and make passionate love to her. His heart is hammering so strongly against his ribs, it's hard to breathe.

When he feels her lips against his throat, he trembles. He picks her up so quickly that she lets out a surprised yelp, her arms around his neck for hold. Their gazes meet and she smiles at him so genuinely that he cannot help but return it. He makes his way up the stairs with her in his arms, giving her a kiss every second step, imagining how it could have been if she had not rejected his proposal which seems so long ago now. He could have had this, everyday and every night.

Once they've reached his bedchambers, he sets her down and closes the door behind him, his eyes not leaving her. However, he hesitates for a moment, his back against the door.

“Are you certain?”

Bathsheba's heart melts once more. He's still giving her a way out, is still ready to let her leave and never mention it again. For her sake. Instead of answering, she takes off her hat and gloves and places them on top of a small counter next to the window. Then she reaches for her hair, pulling out needle after needle until she can shake her dark waves free. William briefly licks his lips but apart from that he doesn't move.

When she starts on the buttons of her dress he finally steps towards her, halting her hands with his. He brings his mouth to them and his warm breath hits her fingers when he whispers: “Allow me.”

William undresses her as if he is unwrapping a present. With each layer that hits the floor, Bathsheba can feel her heart beat faster. She reaches for him but he steps back before he gently turns her around, his fingers working on the tight strings of her corset. At first she's afraid he will keep his distance but just when she thinks about how cold she feels without his touch, his warmth touches her back, his fingers brush her hair aside and his lips find the curve of her jaw. She barely resists the urge to lean against him when he whispers words of endearment into her skin. He tells her that he loves her, that she's the most beautiful creature he's ever beheld and more.

“I never thought I'd feel this way.” He confesses as his lips ghost her neck and she cannot help but shiver at the contact.

“So joyful.” A kiss.

“So desperate.” Another kiss. He's almost done with her corset and she breathes in deeply, enjoying the much needed room for her lungs. His warm hands move inside the corset to close around her middle, only a thin layer of fabric now separating their skin from one another. It seems almost cruel.

“So achingly weak.”

She presses back into him as he pulls her closer by her waist. His body is warm and hard against hers and she lets out a gasp. He shivers before kissing her shoulder. It's still gentle but with something more urgent laced in it. William presses closer still, his fingers brushing her stomach and his face buried in the crook between her neck and shoulder. It makes her shiver once more and she feels goosebumps break out on her skin.

“You brought me back to life.”

His breath is hot and shaky and Bathsheba cannot wait any longer. She swiftly turns in his arms and kisses him, her hands reaching blindly for his waistcoat, pushing it off. He finally frees her off her corset at the same time which settles on the floor with a rustling sound but neither of them cares. His arms close around her back and he takes a few steps forward, before he dips her and suddenly Bathsheba feels the soft sheets beneath her form. William is hovering above her, his eyes wandering down her body. When his fingers slip underneath her undergarments, she raises her arms, easing the way for him. His fingers are warm when they trace over her skin, still careful as if he fears she might disappear into thin air if he touches her properly. She want to assure him that she's real, that this is happening now and she reaches for him, her hands moving past the fabric of his crisp white shirt, reaching, reaching, until she feels his warmth skin on skin. He gasps softly. Their eyes are locked now, and their bodies are both a little tense from the excitement.

When he hesitates, probably to ask her certainty once more, she leans up, silencing him with her lips and he caves immediately. They both pull his shirt off in a frenzy and all she wants is for him to rest upon her, so she can feel him. He doesn't. William keeps his weight supported on both elbows, framing her head and on his knees in between hers. She barely has the time to let her hands wander over his strong shoulders and arms before his lips find her collarbone, her sternum, her stomach, her ribs, her abdomen. His beard tickles a bit and she shivers at the contact. His hands find their way beneath her legs, the movement gentle and loving, the touch drawing out. William is taking his time and she cannot blame him for she wishes to do the same to him. To map out his body with her hands and lips, to learn his weak spots and his scars and every curve. Her thoughts evaporate however, when he kisses her thigh. Her eyelids flutter and her body flinches, not away from him but towards his touch. Frank has never touched her like this and she doubts he ever would. Whenever they had been like this her husband had focused solely on his own pleasure, not caring for her comfort. With William it's the complete opposite. He bestows endearments upon her with his touches, entirely aiming to please her, to make her feel good.

“William” She breathes, barely able to find her voice and he freezes, his eyes finding hers. The sunlight is streaming in through the windows, it illuminates his hair, catches the faint grey strands there and makes them shine. His eyes are darker than usual but his gaze is still tender. He looks breathtaking and she finds herself at a loss for words.

William seems to understand her anyway, his hands soothingly moving up and down her legs.

“Tell me if I go too far” He says, his tone earnest even though his voice his hoarse with desire. It sparks her own and her heart starts beating faster again. His eyes have not moved from hers.

“Say the word and I will stop. Anytime.” His voice is breathier now but she knows that he means every word. She finds the strength to nod, both a signal that she understands and a sign for him to continue. He does. And Bathsheba thinks for a moment she might have left her body and found him on a higher level. Their connection seems to grow into the far air, endless, everlasting. She wants to burst out of her skin. Her desire is mingling with his and every wanton sound from him takes her higher on a journey she's never been on before. He doesn't stop, not even when she fears she might actually go up in flames and burn to ashes. She's glad when his hand finds hers, their fingers interlacing, giving her something to hold on to as she loses herself completely.

When she comes to, William is leaning over her, his fingers caressing her jawline. The sunlight touches him from behind, making him glow around the edges. His lips pull into a smile but his gaze is heavy. _No_, she thinks desperately. _No, no, why would he be sad now? _

She moves her hand to his cheek and pulls him down for a kiss. She wants him to be happy, to let go of this sadness which seems to have taken over his entire being. He's not a dark soul, she knows that much. But somehow it seems to be tainted, easily convinced that it would be better off on the side of darkness. Her arms come up around him, holding him. Whenever he breaks the kiss to breathe, she chases after him. She won't let him be sad now. Not now and if she had her way not ever again. 

She tugs him closer with her body and all he can do is follow. He would have gladly spent the following hour just being next to her and watch her sleep in his arms. But it seems that she has other plans, as usual. Not that he is complaining. However, he feels the need to tell her that they could end it here, that she could leave without her actually having done something. He has already gotten much more form her than he had ever dared imagine and he will not push her for more. He has no right to do so. They are not married. He remembered that fact when his eyes fell onto her wedding ring, just before she opened her eyes to look at him. She looked content and peaceful and a wave of pride moved through his chest at the thought of being the one to make her feel this way. The noises she made only minutes before have been more beautiful to him than any musical composition ever could be. He has no idea how he is supposed to live on with that knowledge, no idea how he will be able to face her in public ever again without kissing her right away. Right here and now she looks like she's his. But he knows she is not, she never will be. But she keeps tugging him closer, she keeps kissing him so deeply and earnestly. She wants him closer and who is he to deny her now?

The bed moans with him underneath their movements and he forgets about the pain that is reality. 


	4. If we're lucky, maybe God might call

Happy. A small word, really, yet its meaning so much greater. A feeling so grand and special that a simple word seems not enough to describe it adequately. It's a warmth that keeps flooding his insides in gentle waves, a calmness that dulls the worries of every day life. And for the first time in years, he doesn't feel any pain. It is still inside him, he knows but for now it seems to be asleep. Perhaps, so are they. William wonders if it is a dream being here with her, their bodies tangled between white soft sheets, their breaths dissolving on skin. He never wants to leave this moment. Bathsheba's form is resting against his, peaceful and warm, her hair is tickling his chest. It feels like she belongs there, like it is not the first time they are laying like this. And she feels the same. He believes it now. It's in the way she curls around him, her eyes closed, her fingers gently moving over his skin. None of them speaks a word for what feels like hours. The sun is slowly fading, its warm glow moving through the room and turning from white to orange. It reminds them that this is a stolen moment. A moment that cannot last. William feels a shadow upon his soul when she stirs in his arms and moves to rest her upper body against his, fully facing him. Her eyes are a kaleidoscope of emotions, so beautiful he wants to drown in them.

Never in her entire life has she felt so safe before. Her body is heavy and warm, fully relaxed. She does not think about the next day or about Frank or her farm. She just lies with him, her hands feeling along his skin, trying to memorise every scar and asperity, the sound of his steady breathing all she wants to hear. William holds her and his arms are the safe haven she has been searching for for so long without even realising it. No one would be able to get past him. His love for her is fierce, smouldering, inexorable in a way it should probably scare her but it doesn't. All she feels is awe and wonder when she looks into this blue eyes of his that seem to hold the ocean. She feels his breath against her forehead when he speaks.

“Darling...” He whispers, his voice so quiet as if he doesn't really want her to hear him.

Bathsheba hums in acknowledgement but does not move. She wishes for the moment to last a little longer.

“The sun is setting.” William states and even though she's aware of what his words imply she tries her best to ignore it.

A few weeks later....

Bathsheba hardly takes the time to ride into town these days. However, when an auction takes place she cannot help her curiosity which is elementary for a decent farmer as she knows herself to be by now. She leaves Frank at home for he hardly cares for the farm at all and would probably be a public embarrassment for her in his usual drunk state. Frank's violent streak appears these days whenever he's had a bottle of wine. He will curse and scream his unhappiness towards the sky and in the end he will blame her. So, she flees whenever she finds the time.

She takes Liddy with her however, as the young woman is always eager to accompany her. They part ways on the market for Bathsheba enjoys the part where each of them can explore the offerings on their own only to compare notes an hour later. When she passes the cross-coat of the church she suddenly feels a warm hand wrap around her arm. She finds herself being pulled behind a pillar, her original intention of raising her voice already dying down for she recognises him before they even come face to face. She smiles and kisses him without hesitation. His lips are familiar by now and whenever they touch, she feels as though she's sinking into a pool of warm water which engulfs her completely, soothes her aching muscles and balms her soul, transferring her mind into a state of peace.

William has been her sanctuary these past few weeks. He would wait for her in front of his fireplace once a week, stand as soon as he heard her enter, turn and look at her with so much wonder and happiness it made her weak in the knees. William always looks at her as if he still cannot believe that she's his now. As if a part of him refuses to accept that she comes back to him again and again to be with him and show him all the love he deserved to have so long ago. But William's demeanour has changed. He has a spring in his step. His eyes have a spark to them and the way he carries himself is much lighter than before. He's happier. And that fact warms her heart whenever she sees him.

When she pulls back to look at him, his gaze finds hers and he smiles, a smile that makes him look so much younger. In those moments when he shows her that secret smile he almost looks boyish.

“I was hoping I'd see you here.” He begins and she smiles even wider when her eyes move towards his hat.

It's sits slightly askew upon his head from their romantic actions and shows off his barely tamed dark curls. How could she not have seen what a handsome man he is before? She blinks herself back to reality and stops him when he moves to kiss her again with a gentle yet firm hand upon his chest.

“We must be careful around here.” She protests but her voice sounds weak even to her own ears.

“I know.” He whispers against her lips and she cannot fight him any more for she does not want to do so.

When he pulls back he lets go of her entirely, making her crave for his touch again so soon. There is a gleam of mischief in his eyes when he steps to her side, leans forward and speaks right into her ear:

“Tonight, I will take you to the stars. I will put my mouth on you until see them. I will kiss and touch every inch of you until you beg me to stop. You won't remember your own name, only mine. My name will be the only thing on your mind while you reach your peak in my hands.”

Her breath leaves her for a moment and her knees buckle at the intense rasp of his voice. She barely keeps herself upon her feet for she knows that he's telling the truth. William has made promises to her like these before and so far he's never left her in doubt about his word.

Before she can so much as look at him once more, he's turned and disappeared into the crowd.

His hands are shaking when he walks away from her. God, when did he get so bold, so careless? Being so close to her here on the market where anyone could see them is as dangerous as it is stupid but William does so enjoy the feeling of his heart beat picking up at the mere thought.

His heart is light these days, even more so when he gets the chance to see her. He is possibly doing a horrendous job at pretending that she's nothing but a neighbour to him, a mere acquaintance when she's so much more. She's everything to him, the light of his life, the joy of his heart. And she feels the same. William still has trouble believing it, however the way her lips curve into a smile whenever she sees him, the way her whole body seems to meld into him as soon as he touches her fills his chest with pride and reassurance. Her feelings for him are genuine and that fact pleases him more then anything else ever has.

He finds himself counting the hours he has to wait until he will see her again. She comes to him once a week, they both know that they have to be careful for he fears for her reputation were they discovered. William had never imagined himself to be in this position. 

_Thou shalt not covet_ _ thy neighbour's wife. _ But now that he is that man he cannot feel regret, nor shame. All he feels is love. And for a man who has waited for so long for this kind of affection, for a man who has been deeply hurt on more than one occasion, a man whose past is dark and cold; for a man such as William Boldwood this feeling is worth everything. 

When she lies in his arms at night he sometimes catches himself wondering. Is this what happiness feels like? It must be. And at the same time he's not disappointed that it took him so long to find it. For he is most fortunate that he is the reason for her happiness as well. This is what poets have written about for centuries. This is what he never thought he'd find.

(It is also what William has cursed numerous times, along with god and his existence in rather mortifying moments of his life when his gaze would find the rifle more than once a day and those dark and horrifying thoughts from hell had danced through his mind. What was the point of dangling love in front of him only to rip it from his hands again, as soon as he'd started to let the ice of self protection around his heart melt a little? How was this supposed to help him grow? How was this of any sense?)

In the back of his mind Boldwood, ever the sensible man is aware that they cannot carry on this behaviour for much longer. Such things always come to light sooner or later, even though or perhaps just because you try your hardest to keep them in the dark. However, William the lover wishes for this to be only for the two of them for a little longer. Whatever the price might be afterwards, in life or even after that he is ready to pay it. It's not the afterlife he fears for he feels he has already paid his dues in life. His personal heaven incluedes her of course. They would be together for eternity, not caring whether they danced on a cloud or on burning coals. And even though he is certain that his age will take him away too soon from her he holds onto this hope that she might join him one day and they will never be separated again.

When Bathsheba prepares to sneak out of the house the sun has already disappeared behind the white layers of fog that cloak the land. She tugs the tunic around her shoulders when her husband walks in. For once in all the time he's been back home he doesn't appear to be drunk. Still, his demeanour makes her tense up. Something tells her that she should watch out. Perhaps it's the way his edges seem sharper than usual, as if he is preparing for a fight. Frank doesn't look at her when he enters the salon through the door across from her and steps forward until his fingers rest on the wooden top of the table between them. He keeps his head lowered as he speaks, she cannot see his eyes.

“Where are you going at this time?” He asks and Bathsheba swallows.

She knew that this question might come up eventually but something in his tone tells her that he already knows the answer, even though she cannot fathom how he could have learned it. So, she decides not to lie.

“Mister Boldwood has requested a meeting concerning the farm's business.”

“At this hour?” Frank's still not looking at her but his voice peaks up the slightest bit which Bathsheba knows from experience is not a good sign.

“Yes, he's a very busy man.” She explains, hoping though not really believing it will be enough to calm Frank's doubts.

“Is he now? Yes, I would think so as he is defiling my wife.” Her breath stops and she does her best not to make a sound. Her blood runs cold.

"I've seen you on the market together." He states and when Frank finally meets her eyes she swallows in order to push down her upcoming panic. He looks angry. Bathsheba straightens her back and does not look away. She will hold her ground against him. For as long as she remembers she wouldn't let any man degrade her and she has no intention to let Frank change that. Yes, he is her husband and she has broken the promise she has made to him but then again, so had he. And she is not less than him, never has been and never will be. She knows what she did was wrong in regard to Frank. However, in regard to herself all she did was follow her heart. She says nothing. Her silence is all the answer he will need.

Frank puts his hands flat on the table top, supporting his weight on them for a moment.

“So, you did fall for the old man after all. And here I thought you would run away with Oak one day.” He chuckles bitterly.

Bathsheba watches him. His anger seems to fade into the background and make room for something more prominent – pain.

“It seems we did not marry where our hearts lie, after all.” She says and when he looks up at that, her fear vanishes. She realises that she can do this, that Frank is not truly looking for a fight but for understanding.

“While you were gone, I heard of Fanny Robin.” She goes on.

“I'm sorry for what happened to her but I couldn't help her. At first I didn't want to believe you would do something like that to me, to your wife. But the longer you were gone, the more I realised that I didn't miss you, not you as a person. I was scared for you at the beginning but then....I wasn't. And I tried to convince myself that I didn't need you or any man for that matter, so I let Gabriel go. Even then I did not miss you.”

Frank pulls out a chair and sinks down on it, his eyes focused on his hands. He looks like a sad little boy to her, his eyes droopy, his hair dishevelled.

“Frank, I'm afraid I've never loved you.” She adds and even though her words are true, she feels bad for him. Her husband sits there for a while, silent, his shoulders slumped. It is not at all what she has expected. Whenever she imagined him finding out about William and her, she feared that he might burst into rage, yell at her and strike her even. But no, all that Frank seems to be is tired.

“I have seen terrible things while I was away. When Fanny died, I ran from it. From the guilt, the shame...I thought I could escape it but I couldn't.” His voice stops for a moment and she can hear him fight the upcoming tears. She sits then, watching his face twist in agony as he goes on.

“On the battlefield she came to me, you see. There were moments when all seemed lost, when the horrors were too bad and I thought I would die, all I could think about was her. And when I went home I realised I had almost forgotten what your face looked like. And I wasn't even shocked. The truth is I hardly ever thought of you.” His tone is neither sad nor spiteful, only resigned.

“I'm sorry.” She says and she means it. His pain was never a goal of hers. However, it is not on her to ease it, they both know that.

“I should never have accepted your proposal.”

He shakes his head and looks at her.

“I should never have proposed to you in the first place. All I wanted was a respected woman but it was for my sake only. It's my fault Fanny's dead. She loved me and I was too scared or too stupid to see it. And now I'll have to live with that.” He brings up a hand to wipe away the tears.

Bathsheba feels a pang of recognition in her chest. She cannot blame Frank for the same mistakes that she's made. She has been blind for far too long as well. She has rejected someone who'd loved her (more than once) as well.

“Do you love him? Boldwood?” He asks suddenly and she blinks.

“Yes.” Her answer is simple.

“This is how I know I've never loved you, not really. When I'm with him I feel....at peace, at home. He makes me happy.” Frank nods. Then he sighs and leans back in his chair.

“Well, if you love one another then...I shall not stand in your way.”

Her eyes go wide at his words. Has she heard him correctly?

“I feel that at least one of us should be happy after all.” Frank explains.

“I admit that I never liked him but I've always known that he truly loves you. Before we married he found me. He begged me not to marry you.”

Her brows furrow in question.

“I have never seen a man so desperate. And I toyed with this. It made me feel powerful at that time to have something he didn't. Boldwood is a nobleman, rich and respected, something I will never be. It brought me pleasure to see such a man practically on his knees in front of me, all because of a woman.”

Bathsheba feels her eyes tear up in response. Her dear William has suffered even greater than she had feared. Oh, what kind of woman is she?

Frank looks her up and down before he speaks once more.

“He loves you, you love him. Go and be with him, then.”

“You mean...” She barely dares to name it.

“...you're giving me permission?”

“I'm setting you free. You're both alive and well, you should make the best of your time together. I wasted the time I had with Fanny. I shall no longer hold you back and let you suffer the same fate.”

“Frank...” She is speechless. Never, in a hundred years had she expected him to be so generous.

“When I came back here, all I wanted was to forget, find solace. But I cannot have that by punishing you for my mistakes. I see that now. I'm leaving tomorrow. I don't know where I'll go but perhaps I could find a place to work.” The young sergeant suddenly looks almost relieved. Bathsheba feels as if he's setting them both free of a cage they built around themselves in the past years.

Her tears are falling freely now, but she's not sad.

“He's waiting for you, isn't he?” All she can do is nod.

“Then go to him. I shall pack a few things and...” He hesitates and looks around the room.

“I will be gone by sunrise.” He doesn't look at her but she can tell that he means it. Frank is giving up on his life here, he probably already has. She rises to her feet and steps around the table, closer to him, not sure how or if she could comfort him, feeling the need to give him something in return.

“Frank, I-”

“Don't.” He interrupts her calmly but strictly and looks at her with a deep honesty in his eyes.

“Let me do this for you. Please, let me do this one thing, let me do this right.” She nods and pushes down a sob of gratefulness.

“Thank you.” She breathes before she turns and walks out the door without looking back. Frank wouldn't want her to say goodbye, she knows that much. And if this is something he wishes to do she will not question it. As soon as she's out the door, she grabs for a lantern, lights it and runs out into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, who would have thought that of Frank? Was origianlly going for a dramatic man-against-man or William-to-the-rescue scene but it didn't feel right in regards to Bathsheba.


	5. In the Garden of Angels

Bathsheba soon finds herself in the middle of the road, the lantern illuminating the path just enough for her to see it. She's still running, ignoring the way her heart races inside her chest and how out of breath she feels or how the cold night wind has made her cheeks feel numb. All she can think about is William. She's late and he must be worried. Knowing him he's probably working himself up over her delay, those bitter doubts creeping back from the dark corners of his lonely house, ensnaring his poor heart once more. No, she will not let that happen! Never again! William is hers and she's his. Her very soul is crying out for him and she wishes for him to feel it with all the faith she can muster.

She's halfway there, already close to her destination when suddenly, a light appears in front of her accompanied by a voice and she stops in her tracks. Can it be...?

“Bathsheba? Darling, is it you?” Her heart leaps in her chest.

She resumes her walk, still unable to see anything but a warm light not unlike her own. It draws her in and with every passing step she feels lighter. When she's finally able to make out his features, she takes him in for a moment. He's dressed rather casually, his coat flung carelessly onto a simple shirt and a waistcoat. His hair is wild, clearly messed up by the wind, his chest is heaving under his unruly breath and his eyes are gleaming. He looks feral, reminding her of a character straight out of a gothic romance novel. Without another thought she sets down her lantern and flings herself at him. His free arm closes around her and she feels like she's able to breathe freely again. His presence is her refuge, her home.

“Are you alright?” He whispers against her ear and she nods, burying her face against the warmth of his shoulder, breathing him in. He moves to set his lantern down as well before he pulls back to look at her. His hands cub her face and his eyes dart across hers as if he's checking for pain. She smiles and covers his hands with hers. His warmth is familiar to her by now and it transfers her into a state of utter calmness.

“I'm fine.” She answers and his worried expression softens a bit. But his eyes still hold questions.

“I'm sorry. I got held up by Frank. He knows.” William freezes.

“It's alright.” She clarifies softly and strokes her thumbs across his hands to calm him down. His heart is racing again but for an entirely different reason. Is this goodbye? Has she come to him for the last time tonight? He doesn't think he will survive it if Troy is to take her away from him again.

“What will he do?” He asks, prepared for every possible outcome. A duel, a public humiliation, anything. He doesn't care which task he'll have to perform. He'll do anything. But she smiles and whatever wall he wanted to conjure up to protect his heart is crumbling at once.

“He's set me free, William. He let me go.” He blinks. Then he shakes his head. Troy wouldn't do that.

“It's true. I told him that I love you and he apologized. He said that at least one of us should be happy. That you and I should be.”

He cannot believe her words. Surely, Troy is playing them for fools. This must be some cruel trick of his, a man like Troy will never let go what he believes to be his. He tells her this much but her resolve remains.

“You didn't see him. He means it. He's leaving, he will be gone by tomorrow morning.”

He shakes his head.

“Yes, yes, we are free, William.”

There is still that old doubt inside of him, overshadowing the upcoming joy he feels at her words. It doesn't allow him to believe it, yet. William has learnt his lesson regarding false hope as life has repeatedly taught him in the past. He's afraid to believe it, to fully embrace and accept that they can and will be together. If he lets his guard down now he knows there will be no going back. And if she leaves then or is ripped away from his arms by fate or Troy...he's certain it will kill him. It will destroy him for good because the pain will be too much for his old and prestressed heart.

She is his last chance in more than one way.

When she kisses him, her skin is cool against his and a stab of worry makes him pull back.

“You must be cold.” He states and tugs her more closely against him. She shakes her head, her smile never faltering.

“Not any more.” She breathes and her gaze is so gentle that it turns his knees into jelly. Her hands find their way underneath his coat, seeking him out and he wants nothing more than to drown in her. However, when she shivers briefly he takes her hand in his and picks up his lantern once more. She understands him without a word. He's taking her home.

That night they make love for what feels like hours, the sun already rising again when they finally fall asleep. The day passes but they do not rise. They find peace in each other and in the knowledge that they're finally free.

One year later...

The sun is rising over the fields and she watches from the balcony. With her name, her living quarters also have changed. She lives at William's house now, however her farm remains intact, Liddy and loyal Mister Poorgrass staying in their positions. Her husband and her have decided to combine their fortunes which resulted in more space for her sheep and a better selling on the market for the name Boldwood is still associated with high standards.

She hears steps behind her and knows instantly that it's him.

“Good morning.” She hears the smile in his voice and leans back against him, welcoming his touch.

The End


End file.
